


drunk on you, now i can't go back

by RinAngel



Category: B1A4
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Sex, in-universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22251526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel
Summary: what should i do? what should i do?Dongwoo and Jinyoung share drinks after their enlistment, reminisce about the decade-long romance that's shaken their perceptions of love, and wonder if it's all worth it.
Relationships: Jung Jinyoung/Shin Dongwoo | CNU
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	drunk on you, now i can't go back

_“I can’t believe you still live here! This apartment feels so small!”_

_“It didn’t ‘til you four got here! It feels like a trip back in time. Like our manager is gonna walk in any second and remind us that pizza isn’t part of our approved diet.”_

_“Holy shit. Fuck that guy.”_

Chanshik hadn’t changed much about the apartment that had once been the B1A4 dormitory. Still two couches, one TV, an overstocked kitchen and a table covered in pizza boxes. It felt sweetly nostalgic to Dongwoo, who had certainly been feeling his age since getting discharged from the military. (His age, by the way, was thirty - _thirty!_ \- and even thinking it made him want to keel over. The Korean entertainment industry was a lot kinder to twenty-year-olds than thirty-year-olds.)

The room that had once belonged to their manager was full of exercise equipment now, and the smaller bedroom that had been shared by Jinyoung and Dongwoo was allocated for guests. Sunwoo, the first of them to get debilitatingly drunk, had already retired to the bed there; Junghwan, who was only on military leave and not fully discharged, had left around that time (he never was much of a drinker, anyway), and Chanshik himself, who’s enlistment date was just weeks away, was curled up on the recliner and dozing. The living room was quiet except for the TV, the ice cubes clinking in Dongwoo’s soju cup, and Chanshik’s soft snores. It was just himself and Jinyoung, ruminating in the quiet.

Had they spoken one-on-one since they broke things off? Dongwoo couldn’t even really remember. If they had, it had been polite and amiable, a gentle conversation, neither of them wanting to stir up the old pain beneath the surface. The reminder that neither of them knew what they were anymore. _“Let’s not visit each other.”_

“I didn’t realize Chanshik was such a good drinker,” Jinyoung finally commented to break the silence. He reached his leg over Dongwoo’s knees, nudging the recliner to no response. “Is it weird that I still see him as a baby?”

“I don’t think so. I feel the same way. I get stuck on how things used to be, and surprised when they change,” Dongwoo admitted, grabbing the soju bottle off the coffee table to refill their cups. Jinyoung drank the stuff straight (somehow - yuck) while Dongwoo, as always, mixed his with Sprite and poured it over ice. “We’re supposed to release an album this winter, once Junghwan is back for real. It’s gonna be really strange, just the three of us.” Dongwoo fell quiet and sipped his drink. _I wish you’d come back,_ the silence implied. “You gotta come celebrate with us if it does well, okay? I mean— you’re not a member on paper, but you’ll _always_ be a member.”

“Do you remember how chaotic it was, the night of our first music show win?” Jinyoung suddenly asked, grinning. “I probably should have stopped seeing him as a baby that night. When he overdid it on the tequila and threw up in the bath tub.”

“That was a fun night otherwise!” Dongwoo chuckled. “You know, we only got really drunk together a handful of times, so I feel like they’re all memorable.

“Mm. Remember that night in Berlin, on our world tour?” Jinyoung prodded.

Dongwoo smiled softly. He remembered, all right. They’d had a flight to catch early the next morning, but that hadn’t stopped him and Jinyoung from drinking themselves stupid on craft beer; past midnight, they made it back to the hotel, the correct suite but the wrong room, and Dongwoo had already gotten Jinyoung’s shirt off and whispered some _very_ dirty promises into his ear by the time Sunwoo loudly cleared his throat from the bed. Six years later, thinking about it made Dongwoo break out into a nervous sweat.

“Yeah. What part of Berlin?”

“All of it,” Jinyoung said simply, sounding more tentative than his usual self as he set his empty glass aside and rested his cheek against Dongwoo’s shoulder. “It was a good night.”

“Once we found our bed, it was a good night.”

The moment fell silent again, and Dongwoo closed his eyes. Alcohol usually made him slow, but this time, having Jinyoung so close after years apart— it made his mind race. How had they gone this way, anyway? From two young rising stars, stupid in love, to people who could barely make the time to see each other? To people who could stand across from each other on the day of Jinyoung’s enlistment, twine their fingers together one last time, and agree not to visit each other until they were both out?

 _“It’s easier this way. I don’t want people to ask questions. I don’t want us to be ruined by others’ curiosity. Let’s just… leave it.”_ But leave it where? And for how long? Jinyoung hadn’t said, he _still_ hadn’t said. Now Dongwoo was going back to the idol life and Jinyoung was hiding behind the scenes as a producer. Picking things up would perhaps be more dangerous than ever, but the nostalgia brought an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He’d _never_ forgotten how sweet these moments were, even with Jinyoung’s bony shoulder digging into him and his hair tickling his cheek.

“Do you remember that night in the studio, when we finished our last EP all together?”

“In the studio?” Jinyoung repeated, lifting his head to look Dongwoo in the face curiously. “I mean, I spent like an entire month in the studio non-stop for that EP. I was burned out and running on fumes.”

“It was like 10 PM, and we were recording the last little bit, and Junghwan was taking forever in the booth,” Dongwoo filled him in quietly, feeling more nervous with every word. “And you were getting fidgety, so you started fooling around with this little bit of scrap paper on the table…”

“And I made you a ring,” Jinyoung interrupted softly, blinking as the memory backlit his eyes. “An origami ring.”

It was kind of impressive, for the tiny little bit of paper it was. Jinyoung was good with his hands like that, good at folding in little details. He’d even used the yellow highlighter on the table to color the band in faux gold.

“I still have it,” Dongwoo admitted softly. “Back at my house. In my jewelry box. I think it was the last gift you ever gave to me…”

Jinyoung laughed as if taken aback; the genuine surprise and joy made Dongwoo’s heart turn to mush. “You consider that a gift? God, Dongwoo, I’m sorry. I should have given you something better than that to remember me by.”

“Well, yeah. You told me that someday you’d give me a real one, and you still haven’t.” Dongwoo snorted, finding it all only halfway humorous. His heart was racing a mile a minute in his chest. “What’s taking so long, Jinyoung? What are we _doing?_ ”

Jinyoung closed his eyes, momentarily hesitant. For a second, Dongwoo was worried that he was too drunk to be having this conversation, but just as he was about to dismiss his own question, Jinyoung spoke up: “I thought it would be easier this way, now that we can barely get a spare moment together. For the military, for our careers— isn’t it better if people don’t ask any questions?”

 _Has this really been easier for you?_ Dongwoo wanted to ask, but he was afraid of what the answer could be. If he had to be perfectly honest with himself, he was a little scared of Jinyoung himself, who held power over him that he probably didn’t even realize. _We were eighteen when we met. I was eighteen when I fell in love with you. Ever since then, everything else has just been background noise._

There were so many ways he could have explained it, but Dongwoo chose the simplest, the one he’d thought about at length and knew to be true: “You’re the best thing that’s come out of my career as an idol, Jinyoung. Just you. Being apart for so long has only made me more sure.”

Jinyoung looked at him with his eyes damp, blinking quickly to delay tears. “I think you’re the only reason I can write love songs,” he admitted, hiding his face suddenly in Dongwoo’s shoulder. “I can only write sad songs these days. It’s bad for business. No one wants to listen to me mope for the rest of my career.”

Dongwoo couldn’t bear it anymore: he had to kiss him, he didn’t have the self control to hold back another second. Jinyoung’s lips were wickedly soft, temptingly flavored with soju and peppermint chapstick - and then just as shyly as Dongwoo remembered from their very first kiss, Jinyoung used his tongue to plead for more attention, and Dongwoo was happy to oblige. Dongwoo had been discharged from the military half a year ago, but now finally, at _last_ , he was truly home.

“I don’t care what people say about us. Write me love songs.” Dongwoo felt breathless as he pulled back; he couldn’t remember Jinyoung’s arms wrapping around him, but just like the first time they’d touched, Jinyoung’s hands seemed to create sparks as they ran lovingly over his shoulders.

“Dongwoo, do you remember the night we debuted?”

The very question made Dongwoo’s heart speed up. He knew exactly what Jinyoung was talking about - nobody had been drinking that night, and the details were clear in his mind as if a decade hadn’t passed since. They’d been giddy from the stage, stayed up most of the night talking about everything and nothing— and when there was nothing else to say and they’d laughed until they cried and kissed their lips swollen, Dongwoo had finally whispered it into the silence, _“I love you so much.”_

“I’ll always remember that night.”

“Me too,” Jinyoung smiled, flashing a glimpse of the dimple that Dongwoo had so missed. Suddenly Dongwoo felt eighteen again, naive and hopeful and holding onto Jinyoung with all of his heart. He kissed him again, cupping Jinyoung’s cheeks, trying to remember every last detail beneath his fingertips. The blur of alcohol was an afterthought; this, like every other joyous drunken rendezvous, Dongwoo was committed to remembering entirely.


End file.
